The Billionaire and the Wedding Planner by Emily Tilton

Author:Emily Tilton [Tilton, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2017-08-16T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Not far away, on the other side of the Massachusetts Turnpike but equally in the moonlight, Emily didn’t know if she was in trouble or not. She couldn’t figure out whether she wanted to be in trouble, even.

She and Quint stood outside her house on Arlington Street with Georgia and Dave. Part of Emily felt very grateful for the dissipation of the tension she had created at the church, however it ended up. She had felt so foolish, immediately afterward, to have insisted on the longer phrases, and to have tried to provoke Quint by calling him ‘Albright.’ But she hadn’t been able to let it go until his father had made that toast—and she had nearly spoiled the rehearsal dinner by refusing to look at her groom.

The best she could do, toward understanding her out-of-the-blue brattiness, was to suppose that when she had heard Reverend Sweetser say Albright, some unaccountable jealousy had surged in her heart. If a priest could call Quint by the name that still seemed to Emily a much more distinguished one than the name of the guy in the shark movie, than Emily should be allowed to call him that, too.

Shouldn’t that just have been a reason to laugh, though? Why had she decided to use it as the occasion to reach even further into her store of willfulness, and felt an even greater need to put her sophisticated stamp on her special day?

Above all, shouldn’t it have been the occasion of additional closeness between her and her intended because of the role it had played in that incredible night six weeks before—the night that still made her face, and other places, hot when she thought about it? The night when she had proven, as Heather Davidson had so crudely declared, that she was indeed a freak and that her future husband loved it?

But… was that it, maybe? She and Quint hadn’t done that again in the intervening weeks. They had only had sex once. Yes, it had been a super-fun little quickie, doggy-style in her kitchen while Georgia watched the game only a few feet away in the TV room, skirt pulled up and panties pulled down without any warning, and his cock feeling enormous and commanding inside her in that position. But though she knew she had managed to behave herself much better since the spanking and its mind-blowingly erotic sequel of sexual discipline, Emily could see now that perhaps something had begun to build during all that time, too—something that couldn’t find full satisfaction merely in being bent over the counter with Quint’s hardness in her pussy.

At least Skip’s toast had cleared one thing up for her: as trite as the idea of Quint being the helmsman of their little boat might be, it sent a thrill of recognition, of joy, and even—though she might refuse to say as much in words—of submission through her when she looked into his steady blue eyes. Now she desperately wanted her helmsman to tack

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